annr.pandora-第6部分

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the　time。
　My　five　brothers　came　before　me。　So　there　was　no　〃ritual　Roman　mourning〃　when　I　was　born；　as　you　hear　tell　of　in　Roman　families　when　a　girl　es　into　the　world。　Far　from　it。
　Five　times　my　Father　had　stood　in　the　atrium　…　the　main　enclosed　courtyard；　or　peristyle；　of　our　house　with　its　pillars　and　stairs　and　grand　marble…work　…　five　times　he　had　stood　there　before　the　assembled　family　and　held　in　his　hands　a　newborn　son；　inspected　it　and　then　pronounced　it　perfect　and　fit　to　be　reared　as　his　own；　as　was　his　prerogative。　Now；　you　know　he　had　the　power　of　life　and　death　over　his　sons　from　that　moment　on。
　If　my　Father　hadn't　wanted　these　boys　for　any　reason；　he　would　have　〃exposed〃　them　to　die　of　starvation。　It　was　against　the　law　to　steal　such　a　child　and　make　it　a　slave。
　Having　five　boys　already；　my　Father　was　expected　by　some　to　get　rid　of　me　immediately。　Who　needs　a　girl？　But　my　Father　never　exposed　or　rejected　any　of　my　Mother's　children。
　And　by　the　time　I　arrived；　I'm　told；　he　cried　for　joy。
　〃Thank　the　gods！　A　little　darling。〃；　I　heard　the　story　ad　nauseam　from　my　brothers；　who；　every　time　I　acted　up　…　did　something　unseemly；　frisky　and　wild　…　said　sneeringly；　〃Thank　the　gods；　a　little　darling！〃　It　became　a　charming　goad。
　My　Mother　died　when　I　was　two；　and　all　I　recall　of　her　are　gentleness　and　sweetness。　She'd　lost　as　many　children　as　she　had　birthed；　and　early　death　was　typical　enough。　Her　Epitaph　was　beautifully　written　by　my　Father；　and　her　memory　honored　throughout　my　life。　My　Father　never　took　another　woman　into　the　house。　He　slept　with　a　few　of　the　female　slaves；　but　this　was　nothing　unusual。　My　brothers　did　the　same　thing。　This　was　mon　in　a　Roman　household。　My　Father　brought　no　new　woman　from　another　family　to　rule　over　me。
　There　is　no　grief　in　me　for　my　Mother　because　I　was　simply　too　young　for　it；　and　if　I　cried　when　my　Mother　did　not　e　back；　I　don't　remember　it。
　What　I　remember　is　having　the　run　of　a　big　old　rectangular　palatial　Roman　house；　with　many　rectangular　rooms　built　onto　the　main　rectangle；　one　off　another；　the　whole　nestled　in　a　huge　garden　high　on　the　Palatine　Hill。　It　was　a　house　of　marble　floors　and　richly　painted　walls；　the　garden　meandering　and　surrounding　every　room　of　it。
　I　was　the　true　jewel　of　my　Father's　eye；　and　I　remember　having　a　marvelous　time　watching　my　brothers　practice　outside　with　their　short　broadswords；　or　listening　as　their　tutors　instructed　them；　and　then　having　fine　teachers　of　my　own　who　taught　me　how　to　read　the　entire　Aeneid　of　Virgil　before　I　was　five　years　old。
　I　loved　words。　I　love　to　sing　them　and　speak　them　and　even　now；　I　must　admit；　I　have　fallen　into　the　joy　of　writing　them。　I　couldn't　have　told　you　that　nights　ago；　David。　You've　brought　back　something　to　me　and　I　must　make　the　admission。　And　I　must　not　write　too　fast　in　this　mortal　cafe；　lest　human　beings　notice！
　Ah；　so　we　continue。
　My　Father　thought　it　was　hysterical　that　I　could　recite　verses　from　Virgil　at　so　young　an　age　and　he　liked　nothing　better　than　to　show　me　off　at　banquets　at　which　he　entertained　his　conservative　and　somewhat　old…fashioned　Senatorial　friends；　and　sometimes　Caesar　Augustus　himself。　Caesar　Augustus　was　an　agreeable　man。　I　don't　think　my　Father　ever　really　wanted　him　at　our　house；　however。　But　now　and　then；　I　suppose；　the　Emperor　had　to　be　wined　and　dined。
　I'd　rush　in　with　my　nurse；　give　a　rousing　recital　and　then　be　whisked　away　to　where　I　could　not　see　the　proud　Senators　of　Rome　glutting　themselves　on　peacock　brains　and　garum　…　surely　you　know　what　garum　is。　It's　the　horrible　sauce　the　Romans　put　on　everything；　rather　like　today's　ketchup。　Definitely　it　defeated　the　purpose　of　having　eels　and　squids　on　your　plate；　or　ostrich　brains　or　unborn　lamb　or　whatever　other　absurd　delicacies　were　being　brought　by　the　platterful。
　The　point　is；　as　you　know；　the　Romans　seemed　to　have　a　special　place　in　their　hearts　for　genuine　gluttony；　and　the　banquets　inevitably　became　a　disgrace。　The　guests　would　go　off　to　the　vomitorium　of　the　house　to　heave　up　the　first　five　courses　of　the　meal　so　that　they　could　then　swallow　the　others。　And　I　would　lie　upstairs；　giggling　in　my　bed；　listening　to　all　this　laughter　and　vomiting。　Then　the　rape　of　the　entire　catering　staff　of　slaves　would　follow；　whether　they　were　boys　or　girls　or　a　mixture　of　both。
　Family　meals　were　an　entirely　different　affair。　Then　we　were　old　Romans。　Everyone　sat　at　the　table；　my　Father　was　undisputed　Master　of　his　house；　and　would　tolerate　no　criticism　of　Caesar　Augustus；　who；　as　you　know；　was　Julius　Caesar's　nephew；　and　did　not　really　rule　as　Emperor　by　law。
　〃When　the　time　is　right；　he　will　step　down；〃　said　my　Father。　〃He　knows　he　can't　do　it　now。　He　is　more　weary　and　wise　than　ever　he　was　ambitious。　Who　wants　another　Civil　War？〃
　The　times　were　actually　too　prosperous　for　men　of　stature　to　make　a　revolt。
　Augustus　kept　the　peace。　He　had　profound　respect　for　the　Roman　Senate。　He　rebuilt　old　Temples　because　he　thought　people　needed　the　piety　they　had　known　under　the　Republic。
　He　gave　free　corn　from　Egypt　to　the　poor。　Nobody　starved　in　Rome。　He　maintained　a　dizzying　amount　of　old　festivals；　games　and　spectacles　…　enough　to　sicken　one　actually。　But　often　as　patriotic　Romans　we　had　to　be　there。
　Of　course　there　was　great　cruelty　in　the　arena。　There　were　cruel　executions。　There　was　the　ever　present　cruelty　of　slavery。
　But　what　is　not　understood　by　those　today　is　that　there　coexisted　with　all　this　a　sense　of　individual　freedom　on　the　part　of　even　the　poorest　man。
　The　courts　took　time　over　their　decisions。　They　consulted　the　past　laws。　They　followed　logic　and　code。　People　could　speak　their　minds　fairly　openly。
　I　note　this　because　it　is　key　to　this　story：　that　Marius　and　I　both　were　born　in　a　time　when　Roman　law　was；　as　Marius　would　say；　based　on　reason；　as　opposed　to　divine　revelation。
　We　are　totally　unlike　those　blood　drinkers　brought　to　Darkness　in　lands　of　Magic　and　Mystery。
　Not　only　did　we　trust　Augustus　when　we　were　alive；　we　also　believed　in　the　tangible　power　of　the　Roman　Senate。　We　believed　in　public　virtue　and　character；　we　held　to　a　way　of　life　which　did　not　involve　rituals；　prayers；　magic；　except　superficially。　Virtue　was　embedded　in　character。　That　was　the　inheritance　of　the　Roman　Republic；　which　Marius　and　I　shared。
　Of　course；　our　house　was　overcrowded　with　slaves。　There　were　brilliant　Greeks　and　grunting　laborers　and　a　fleet　of　women　to　rush　about　polishing　busts　and　vases；　and　the　city　itself　was　choked　with　manumitted　slaves　…　freedmen　…　some　of　whom　were　very　rich。
　They　were　all　our　people；　our　slaves。
　My　Father　and　I　sat　up　all　night　when　my　old　Greek　teacher　was　dying。　We　held　his　hands　until　the　body　was　cold。　Nobody　was　flogged　on　our　estate　in　Rome　unless　my　Father　himself　gave　the　order。　Our　country　slaves　loafed　under　the　fruit　trees。　Our　stewards　were　rich；　and　showed　off　their　wealth　in　their　clothes。
　I　remember　a　time　when　there　were　so　many　old　Greek　slaves　in　the　garden　that　I　could　sit　day　after　day　and　listen　to　them　argue。　They　had　nothing　else　to　do。　I　learned　much　from　this。
　I　grew　up　more　than　happy。　If　you　think　I　exaggerate　the　extent　of　my　education；　consult　the　letters　of　Pliny　or　other　actual　memoirs　and　correspondence　of　the　times。　Highborn　young　girls　were　well　educated；　modern　Roman　women　went　about　unhampered　for　the　most　part　by　male　interference。　We　partook　of　life　as　did　men。
　For　example；　I　was　scarcely　eight　years　old　when　I　was　first　taken　to　the　arena　with　several　of　my　brothers'　wives；　to　have　the　dubious　pleasure　of　seeing　exotic　creatures；　such　as　giraffes；　tear　madly　around　before　being　shot　to　death　with　arrows；　this　display　then　followed　by　a　small　group　of　gladiators　who　would　hack　other　gladiators　to　death；　and　then　after　that　came　the　flock　of　criminals　to　be　fed　to　the　hungry　lions。
　David；　I　can　hear　the　sound　of　those　lions　as　if　it　were　now。　There's　nothing　between　me　and　the　moment　that　I　sat　in　the　wooden　benches；　perhaps　two　rows　up　…　the　premium　seats　…　and　I　watched　these　beasts　devour　living　beings；　as　I　was　supposed　to　do；　with　a　pleasure　meant　to　demonstrate　a　strength　of　heart；　a　fearlessness　in　the　face　of　death；　rather　than　simple　and　utter　monstrousness。
　The　audience　screamed　and　laughed　as　men　and　women　ran　from　the　beasts。　Some　victims　would　give　the　crowd　no　such　satisfaction。　They　merely　stood　there　as　the　hungry　lion　attacked；　those　who　were　being　devoured　alive　almost　invariably　lay　in　a　stupor　as　though　their　souls　had　already　taken　flight；　though　the　lion　had　not　reached　the　throat。
　I　remember　the　smell　of　it。　But　more　than　anything；　I　remember　the　noise　of　the　crowd。
　I　passed　the　test　of　character；　I　could　look　at　all　of　it。　I　could　watch　the　champion　gladiator　finally　meet　his　end；　lying　there　bloody　in　the　sand；　as　the　sword　went　through　his　chest。
　But　I　can　certainly　remember　my　Father　declaring　under　his　breath　that　the　whole　affair　was　disgusting。　In　fact；　everybody　I　knew　thought　it　was　all　disgusting。　My　Father　believed；　as　did　others；　that　the　mon　man　needed　all　this　blood。　We；　the　highborn；　had　to　preside　over　it　for　the　mon　man。　It　had　a　religious　quality　to　it；　all　this　spectacular　viciousness。
　The　making　of　these　appalling　spectacles　was　considered　something　of　a　social　responsibility。
　Also　Roman　life　was　a　life　of　being　outdoors；　involved　in　things；　attending　ceremonies　and　spectacles；　being　seen；　taking　an　interest；　ing　together　with　others。
　You　came　together　with　all　the　other　highborn　and　lowborn　of　the　city　and　you　joined　in　one　mass　to　witness　a　triumphant　procession；　a　great　offering　at　the　altar　of　Augustus；　an　ancient　ceremony；　a　game；　a　chariot　race。
　Now　in　the　Twentieth　Century；　when　I　watch　the　endless　intrigue　and　slaughter　in　motion　pictures　and　on　television　throughout　our　Western　world；　I　wonder　if　people　do　not　need　it；　do　not　need　to　see　murder；　slaughter；　death　in　all　forms。　Television　at　times　seems　an　unbroken　series　of　gladiatorial　fights　or　massacres。　And　look　at　the　traffic　now　in　video　recordings　of　actual　war。
　Records　of　war　have　bee　art　and　entertainment。
　The　narrator　speaks　softly　as　the　camera　passes　over　the　heap　of